"Yes. I should shut the door another time if I were you," a gruff voice commented behind them. "It's a rash thing, young man, to leave the door open when you're talking confidences. What are you doing in this house, I wonder? Did you come in at the door?"
Both Maud and Saltash had faced round at the first sentence, she with a sharp exclamation, he with a laugh.
Uncle Edward, his eyes very bright under the beetling brows, stumped up to them with the air of an old watchdog investigating the presence of a suspicious stranger. He rasped his throat ferociously as he came.
"Who may you be?" he demanded.
"I?" Saltash was laughing still, facing the situation with his hands in his pockets, the soul of careless effrontery. "I don't suppose you have ever heard my name before. I am Saltash."
"Who?" Uncle Edward turned for explanation towards his niece.
"Lord Saltash," she said, in a low voice.
"Oh! Lord Saltash!" The old man turned back to him with a sound like a snarl. "Yes, I have heard of you before. You were co-respondent in the Cressady divorce case a few years back."
Saltash laughed again with easy nonchalance. "You have a good memory, sir. If it serves you as it should, you will also recall the fact that the case was dismissed."
"I remember--all the facts," said Uncle Edward, with ominous deliberation, "And as it is not my custom to admit men of your stamp into my house, you will oblige me by quitting it without delay."